


Cold Boy Fever

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Accidental Plot, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Slice of Life, uruha is a suave motherfucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’d date the shit out of you,” Uruha appropriately announces with much more confidence than a man who is trying to delicately peel away the wrapper of a ho-ho (lest the chocolate smear his niece’s pink-slathered masterpiece upon his fingernails) should.</p><p>Or:  the one where Uruha is a glitter-scrunchie-wearing mastermind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Boy Fever

 

 

“I’d date the shit out of you,” Uruha appropriately announces with much more confidence than a man who is trying to delicately peel away the wrapper of a [ho-ho](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/23/LD-Swiss-Cake-Rolls.jpg/800px-LD-Swiss-Cake-Rolls.jpg) (lest chocolate smears his niece’s pink-slathered masterpiece upon his fingernails) should. 

Kai isn’t aware that this is appropriate conversation and proceeds to sputter, nearly choking on his sip of cider – eyes wide and cheeks ablaze.  He turns his incredulous stare onto Uruha, who doesn’t pay his gawping gaze any mind, merely continuing his task of slowly unwrapping the chocolate treat.

As if glittery scrunchies poorly holding up his dark-rooted hair (there’s a loose strand that’s dangling dangerously close to the dip of his cheek and Kai has to squash down the childish urge to tuck it back in place) and abrupt confessions over cider and ho-hos are perfectly typical of an evening spent rooming together in a hotel. 

Grimacing at the neon-glittered scrunchie again (for the tenth time that night) – Kai briefly recalls Uruha’s easy smile and nonchalant explanation of how his niece had her way with him yesterday before he left for the tour, replacing all his hair-ties with her princess-scrunchies in his luggage – before blinking hard.  He is clearly suffering from post-live hallucinations – _like that one time after a particularly grueling concert, he had sworn Aoi had swan-dived off the drum set wearing Kai’s favorite pair of flower-embroidered pants –_ and had obviously misheard Uruha’s lazy slur of words. 

“I…  What?”

Uruha raised an amused brow at him, looking irritatingly at ease perched atop the hotel’s uncomfortable desk chair like a lackadaisical feline, one knee bent and toes curling along its edge as the other leg casually swung.  Kai was torn between the excited flutter in his stomach over the guitarist’s dark, half-masted gaze and the laugh that was threatening to bubble over at the way the scrunche’s glitter was beginning to speckle Uruha’s hair which matched wonderfully with the sloppy strokes of pink that stained his cuticles. 

The laugh was soon stifled, however, as Uruha gave his newly released ho-ho a long, wet stroke of his tongue.  Kai swallowed. 

“I said,” a peek of sinful pink darting out to catch a drip of melting chocolate, shadowed eyes glinting, “I would date the shit out of you.”  Uruha finished with a curling smirk.

Kai could feel the after-burn of the cider on his throat – it was getting really dry in here.  _Fuck_. 

Because Kai’s sure that underneath those pink nails, thigh-stubble, and suitcase filled with butterfly hair clips and coloring books – Kai’s sure that _date_ isn’t really what Uruha was going for as he whispered the word past wet, bowed lips.  Kai’s sure it’s something more rough, something with walls against his back and a knee between his legs and a hot mouth hissing out filthy sonnets as they try to keep quiet, but _how can Kai be quiet when Uruha begs to be held down and his lips are so close, close and – and –_

…  and more like something that Kai has spent a few nights and showers thinking about.  Maybe.

Either way, Uruha’s satisfied grin has Kai hurriedly glancing down at the vending-machine feast laid out on the table between them, trying to think and not lick off the spot of chocolate dotting Uruha’s jaw.  Because it has to be a joke – a teasing comment filled with inappropriate innuendo, just like Ruki and Reita’s frequent verbal duels.   
  
But Uruha isn’t grinning, his nose isn’t crinkling with mirth and his gaze is steady, his smirk widening as he takes in Kai’s flustered breaths.  He uses his free hand to tuck back that stray lock, pink fingernails carding through his hair, roots miles long and the ends frizzed and Kai doesn’t know where to _look_ – because Uruha’s eyes are still smudged with kohl, promising black-laced things that really shouldn’t be discussed over cider and junk food…

But Kai wants to reach out, reach out and give in and _take_ and trace a fingertip along those lips and –

And suddenly the snacks are scattered on the floor, carpet stained with crimson candies and that fucking cider as Kai grapples for the back of Uruha’s head, fingers tangling in those mussed tresses.  He leans in, feels the catch in Uruha’s breath as his nose bumps against his, and utters against the corner of those bowed lips, “Oh?  And would you call the crap out of me afterwards?”

Uruha’s eyes flutter, specks of glitter making his irises glow.  He tilts his head downwards, mouth ghosting along Kai’s jaw.  The drummer grits his teeth, his grip on Uruha’s hair tightening as he feels the leer pressing into his skin, “I’d call the crap out of you and then text the shit out of Reita to ask him what your favorite flowers are.”

And Kai can play this game; he _wants_ to get lost in the feeling of Uruha’s bare thighs sliding against his sweatpants, the slight tickle of missed spots of the razor and the ripple of muscle from all those crack-of-fuck-dawn jogs Uruha prided himself on.  Kai wants to lose his damn mind and fuck the consequences and the fact that this is only for tonight – something they’ll only remember echoes of when their eyes meet over the drum set.  And Kai is willing – willing to hold that _what-if­_ in his chest _forever_ if it means this is happening _now_.

So, Kai laughs, a mere rush of breath – almost a pant – as he tugs Uruha’s head back, molding his lips to the swell of Uruha’s throat, “You’d buy the shit out of those daffodils.”

Uruha hums, just shy of a deep purr and Kai wants to press closer to coax out that _fucking sound_ ; he can taste the rumble against his mouth, “Daffodils?  I’ll remember that.”

Uruha brushes his fingertips across arms, pink nails circling each freckle and grazing each goosebump.  He can see Uruha’s eyes close, his mouth slightly part – completely enraptured at the whisper of touch of Kai’s hips to his own.  Kai bites his lip and rolls his hips, burying his face in the crook of Uruha’s neck at the hardness that rubs against the inside of his thigh.  The delicious friction and lolling heat make Kai want to scream, to clasp Uruha tight and steal him – his easy smile, his lithe fingers, his heart ( _oh fuck, his heart_ ) – and when Kai chances a glance upwards, Uruha is already leaning in.   
  
The bite to his lips is gentle, a soft tug released with a light peck. 

Kai swallows hard, pushing forward to capture Uruha’s lips in a bruising grip before the guitarist can lean away again because he can’t _wait_ , can’t let his racing mind catch up with him.  And he wants it to hurt a little, wants Uruha to whimper and dig his nails in deeper, just a little deeper.  It’s a clash of teeth and gums, shaking hands and snapping spines, and Uruha is pushing back, hands at Kai's shoulders.  His willowy frame is suddenly forcing Kai backwards and for a fleeting, panic-stricken moment, the drummer thinks it’s over – it’s too far, too much, and Uruha is going to shake his head in silent rejection and quietly leave to bunk with Reita for the night.  The pang in his chest is sharp and Kai stops, refraining from sweeping his tongue across Uruha’s panting maw for one last taste of chocolate, “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I don’t know – didn’t think –”

Uruha nips the underside of his jaw, voice low and dangerous as he hisses, “ _Shut the fuck up, Leader-sama.”_

And proceeds to hoist Kai up to his chest to stand, the frazzled drummer forced to wrap his legs around the other’s waist as the taller man wobbles hurriedly towards the bed.   
  
Kai sputters a tad, secretly relishing in the tight grip and the rush of _yearn_ he gets from his length sliding against Uruha’s quivering stomach, before he’s thrown into the navy sheets.  Uruha crawls towards him, sinewy body moving in beautiful arches and sinful sways, ratty jogging shorts riding low on his hips and hair slipping out of his messy bun.  The black and gold curls are sticking to his cheeks and Kai runs a hand through the knots when the guitarist is close enough.  Uruha sighs heavily, leaning into the touch, tilting his head so his mouth is pressed to Kai’s fingertips.  Kai shudders before tugging the scrunchie out of the other’s hair, releasing the broken halo of aureate and ebony to fall around them in a curtain of decadent midnight and dirtied stars. 

Uruha hums low in his throat, drifting closer so he’s between the other's splayed thighs, mouth finding Kai’s so he can suffocate him, drown him, kill him with a sweet little death – fingers guiding Kai’s hands to the waistband of his shorts.  Uruha’s flesh is already damp when Kai dips beneath the fabric, goosebumps rising and hips snapping to meet his hushed touch.  Uruha mewls into his mouth, moving closer with impatience and releasing his lips to press hot kisses to his jaw, his neck, and Kai starts tugging the cloth away with renewed vigor.

Only to pause after the shorts are tossed aside. 

It figures Uruha would be going commando.

Uruha chuckles at Kai’s huff, the sound muffled against the drummer’s shoulder. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned this.”

Uruha lifts his head, giving a sweet peck to Kai’s downturned lips (that are barely containing his amusement) with a cheeky grin, “Ho-ho’s and drummers are aphrodisiacs.  I needed to be prepared.”

Before Kai can stutter out a snarky reply, Uruha clutches his wrists, letting himself fall back into the sheets and pulling Kai on top of his pulsing body.  Hooded eyes watch Kai closely, both their veins thrumming as the eleventh hour sinks into their skin.  A knee rubs against Kai’s stomach before a leg curls around his back, Uruha rolling his hips in soft circles – their erections grazing in a searing _hello_.  The brunette pants hard, eyes closing shut and arms braced tight so he won’t fall into Uruha completely – won _’t lose everything; every wall and caution and wait-wait-but-what-if –_

A hot whisper trickles into his ear, _“Fuck the shit out of me.”_

It’s a tangled mess of limbs, Uruha’s long legs trying to find purchase around Kai’s waist as he’s pushed into the mattress with every desperate thrust.  Wanton mewls slide from their throats, hands fluttering along sweat-slathered skin to touch every part of each other.  Uruha licks the curve of Kai’s collarbone as the drummer sinks in deeper, the feel of Uruha swallowing him, _letting him_ , almost too much – white vertigo flickering across his eyes, but he can’t close them.  Not when Uruha’s face is flushed, mouth open to whisper broken syllables of his name, _completely his_.  Nails scrape against his taut arms, a heel pushing into his lower back – Uruha murmuring breathlessly _“more, closer, more”_ – and Kai hushes him with a open-mouthed kiss, sloppy and lacking any sort of rhythm.  The beats are lost to the skipping pulses of his heart. 

A lewd lick across his tongue and a twist of hips has Kai gasping, the moon flickering out of view as Uruha bites into his shoulder.  Kai thrusts even harder, the whine in Uruha’s throat urging him on – _come on, come on, obliterate me –_ and Uruha releases him with a broken moan, falling back into the sheets.  His hand trembles, palm empty as he arches into Kai's touch, and even in the midst of dark lust, Kai reaches – intertwines their fingers as they both teeter along the edge of sin’s grasp.  Uruha’s hand is large, easily enveloping his own, fingertips stroking his knuckles as he whispers heatedly, “Just.. a little – _harder_ – and I’ll cuddle the shit out of you later.”

Kai breathes out a surprised chuckle and grasps one of Uruha’s trembling thighs, angling him so he can brush that sweet death just a little more, “We’re – _hah_ – still on that?”

Uruha only throws his head back and tightens his hold on Kai’s hand, the sweat on his neck glistening in the hotel's fluorescent lighting.  And he’s _fucking gorgeous_ – mile-long roots, thigh-stubble, and a dab of face cleanser still stuck to his cheek and all.  And Kai wants to believe, just for a moment as they’re entangled so tight, _so close to breaking apart_ , that they can stay like this.  Because he’ll gladly be the one to oversee Uruha’s niece painting his nails, the one who makes sure he doesn’t walk out of the house with the butterfly clip still in his hair, the one who gingerly takes the guitar out of his hands when the secondhand strikes dawn and leads him to bed.

And maybe…

_Maybe –_

Uruha swallows, eyes cracking open to capture Kai’s smoldering gaze, and everything’s still for two seconds.

Kai can barely breathe, unraveling and falling and collapsing into Uruha, the elder's arms reaching up to wrap around his quivering shoulders as they gasp and shudder.  It’s boneless.  Uruha’s fingers like spread eagles across his shoulder blades, his breaths whispering sweet-nothings into his neck.  Kai lays there, unwilling to part – to abandon the soft kiss to his flesh. 

“So, will you go out with me?”

The words are slurred, but Kai can feel Uruha trace a heart against his back.  And he wants to laugh, really hard, maybe until his lungs and stomach ache, but instead he only nods slowly – because he can’t grapple for the words; Uruha has always been one step ahead.  Always blindsiding him.

So they lay there as midnight stretches into dawn. ****  
  
And Uruha whispers into the hushed quiet, a smile tickling Kai’s neck:  
  
“I’m going to love the shit out of you.”     


**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: April 22nd, 2012


End file.
